


Stupidly attractive

by Yoshishisha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshishisha/pseuds/Yoshishisha
Summary: Derek is stupidly attractive. Stiles doesn't mind! Except he wishes Derek could go be stupidly attractive elsewhere. Preferably far away from his bedroom.





	Stupidly attractive

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in 2016 (for a secret santa probably?) and just realised I've never posted it here. So here it is!

Stiles had known it from the first time he’d seen Derek.

_I’m never spending any length of time with that guy_ , he’d thought.

 It hadn’t only been Derek’s murder face that had convinced him to promptly give up the idea of attempting something with the man. Sure, he’d seemed like a grumpy murderer at first glance, but Stiles knew better than anyone how hard bad first impressions could be to shake off (Mrs. Carlson two houses over still eyed him warily whenever he got within 20 feet of her front door).

No, the true problem was not in Derek’s face. Or rather it was, but not in his expression as Stiles had briefly entertained. The root of the problem laid in Derek’s _everything_!

“He’s too stupidly attractive!” Stiles had later yelled at the wall of his empty bedroom as he’d thought back to their first meeting. “Seriously was that face really necessary? Who makes such a gorgeous human being and gives them a sexy murder face to terrify poor teenagers in the dark of the night? Who does that!!?”

He’d then been interrupted by his dad showing up at his door with a call of “Is everything alright, son?” but that had already been enough for the root of a crush to start. Thankfully, Stiles had ample experience with an impossible crushes (re: Lydia and his 10-year plan to make her see how amazing he was), and had promised himself that he wouldn’t under any circumstances nurse more than one at a time.

It had been hard, but Stiles had buried his budding attraction to Derek Hale. That attempt had been made easier by the fact that he’d honestly believed Derek to be a murderer (and no matter Stiles’ ambiguous moral compass, there was no way he could spin that one in a way that made it less horrible), and Scott’s hatred for everything the man embodied.

But then, that asshole had to go and turn out to be a good guy! Still an asshole, but a genuinely good guy with a tragic back-story, and how was Stiles supposed to resist that?

“Stiles.”

The teenager blinked and brought himself out of his musings. Once again, Derek had managed to get himself bloodied up as a result of some adventure Stiles apparently hadn’t been allowed on because he was a “fragile, Stiles, you’re not as strong as the rest of us” and bla, bla, bla... Stiles had heard the speech a thousand times and no, he wasn’t going to stop intervening when people (werewolves) were being stupid and forgetting they weren’t actually immortal despite their advanced healing.

“Yeah, I know, I’m a weak little human, which doesn’t actually change the fact that you keep showing up bleeding in my room and half-naked on – “

Stiles barely paused before saying the next words, used as he was to Derek looking attractive and half-naked all over his living space.

“– my bed,” he finished as he pasted an exasperated expression on his face and finished wrapping the bandage around Derek’s bicep. Rolling his chair back, Stiles couldn’t help but catch the smallest flicker of expression on Derek’s face, as though the werewolf had wanted to say something, but refrained for some reason.

“What?” he asked, mentally reviewing his latest actions. He didn’t remember saying something particularly strange, and he’d learned to control his feelings around the other, so it couldn’t have been that nifty werewolf nose of his either... “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” Derek said, settling a fearsome scowl on his face as he shrugged his shirt back on and set out towards the window.

Stiles didn’t even bother to hide the roll of his eyes, but buried the faint stab of disappointment he felt under a thin veneer of exasperation.

“Seriously? Not even a thank you for my troubles?” Stiles hadn’t been expecting much, but something other than blatant hostility would have been nice, what with always being on call to fix the fearless alpha. “Honestly, with how often you come here, I thought you’d at least learn to enjoy the sight of my ugly mug and maybe just –”

“It’s not ugly.”

Stiles blinked. Once, twice, and when Derek didn’t add anything disparaging to cancel out the clearly accidental compliment, he opened his mouth. “What.”

There was absolutely no way he’d heard that properly! Stiles had seriously thought he’d gotten over all this wishful thinking about Derek even entertaining the possibility of finding him attractive, but it seemed like his mind had jumped straight to auditory hallucinations in order to encourage him to nurse yet another hopeless crush, which was seriously not cool.

Following Derek’s gaze to the half-opened window of his room, Stiles promptly rolled his chair around the physics textbook and the pile of clothes lying on the ground in order to pre-emptively block the exit. “No way dude: you’re not leaving without explaining that thing you just said,” he protested. “Again, what?”

“I said it’s not ugly,” Derek said with a sigh as he sat back onto Stiles’s bed. “Your ‘mug’,” he added with a vague gesture towards his own face.

Stiles stared again, momentarily speechless. That had not clarified anything at all. Apparently, he’d heard Derek properly the first time, and – “Is this your way of saying you think I’m pretty?” Stiles asked dubiously, because he couldn’t for the life of him think about any other reason for Derek to protest his (mainly) sarcastic comment.

Derek blushed. Actually honest-to-god blushed. Stiles couldn’t believe it, even though the hint of red beneath the other’s stubble and Derek’s averted gaze were like neon signs advertising the truth of Stiles’s statement.

“Oh my god, you do! When the hell did this happen?”

Stiles could see the cogs working in Derek’s brain as the werewolf attempted to find a way out of his current predicament. Eventually however, after a long awkward silence Stiles tried his best not to interrupt, Derek’s shoulders slumped and he began talking.

“You know that already,” he began with obvious irritation in his tone, and added a half-hearted glare just in case Stiles hadn’t picked up on the hostility. “I know you don’t find me attractive, but that’s no reason to – “

“Wait wait, back up a second there,” Stiles interrupted with a shake of his hand. He then pointed at himself. “Me? Not finding you attractive?” There, he’d pointed at Derek, just in case the meaning of his words wasn’t plain enough. “You have seen you, right? You do have some mirrors in that busted up house of yours?”

Derek growled at that, and Stiles quickly raised his hands in a show of surrender.

“Shit, um, sorry yeah – No mentioning the house I get it,” he babbled quickly. “It’s just... Of course I find you attractive dude; how did you not know that? Don’t you have a super werewolf nose to tell you that kind of stuff?”

Derek’s expression had sharply veered away from the usual anger, rage, and pain to settle mostly on confusion at the moment.

“I do,” he said slowly. “And all of them keep telling me that you’re not interested and feel embarrassed on my behalf every time you so much as look at me.”

There he looked at Stiles with a defiant look, as though daring him to deny what the werewolf knew to be the truth. The worst part of it was... Stiles couldn’t exactly refute that. Mostly because, well... Stiles did feel an overwhelming amount of embarrassment when looking at Derek. That, and a sort of fond exasperation, because Stiles was a ridiculous hopeless dreamer! Stiles was embarrassed at himself for not being able to control his immediate attraction to the older man, and keep it from growing into a raging crush of Lydia proportion. Stiles was embarrassed on his own behalf for all the times he’d feel clumsy or useless in front of Derek, because he simply didn’t have the power needed to be truly useful to the pack and research could only bring him so far.

“Of course I feel embarrassed!” Stiles finally exploded, incredulity coloring his tone. “You’re the alpha leader of this town’s pack who somehow managed to keep our ragtag group of teenagers alive through all the shit that keeps getting thrown at us! You’re so hot people do a double-take when they see you, and not just because of your murder face! You literally have all the crappy elements of a villain’s back-story and yet still manage to keep saving people despite all of it!”

By that point, Stiles had stood up from his chair in a bid to emphasize his point. “Seriously dude, you’re awesome; how am I supposed to compete with that? I’m a weak puny little human, with admittedly above average intelligence and determination. My biggest talent is my ability to sort out the crap from the useful stuff on google, and even I know that still only has a 50% success rate where the supernatural is concerned.”

Belatedly realizing he’d been shouting into a frozen Derek’s face, Stiles backed off and ran a hand through his short hair to calm himself. He briefly contemplated finishing his tirade, but a look in Derek’s direction convinced him he’d sabotaged himself enough for the day. “Never mind, I’ll just...” He gestured vaguely towards the door (which was dumb, because he was in his own house; Derek should be the one to leave) and set out to get away from Derek before he could embarrass himself any more than he already had.

However, it seemed like it was not to be because Stiles’s sight was suddenly filled with a faceful of werewolf even as two warm hands ensnared his wrists. Stiles almost whined. “Come on, Derek, I’ve already humiliated myself enough; at least let me have my dramatic exit.”

Derek showed no sign of having heard him beyond slightly loosening his grip. “You –“ he started as his hazel eyes bore into Stiles’s own. “You don’t think I’m embarrassing.”

Stiles’s expression must have done something right at that moment, because Derek’s eyes widened and the beginning of a smile stretched his lips. “You like me,” he murmured with an undercurrent of wonder.

The teenager sighed. “Yes, Derek. I like you,” he said with a sigh even as he attempted to stifle the burgeoning hope in his chest that his feelings might not be as one-sided as he had previously thought. He hesitated for an instant, gaze aimed at the ground, and then raised it to meet Derek’s own. “And if I said I might even like-like you, what would your reaction be,” he asked, chin lightly raised in defiance of whatever Derek’s reaction would be.

“Can I kiss you?” was the definitely unexpected answer.

“Excuse me?” Of all the answers Stiles had envisioned, this one didn’t even come close to his expectations. At best, Stiles had entertained the idea of Derek jokingly calling him out on his juvenile phrasing, but this was beyond his wildest dreams.

“Kiss you,” Derek repeated, a bit more confidently. “I’d like to kiss you.”

This time, Stiles didn’t wait to respond to what was probably the most politely worded request Derek had ever asked of him. Leaning forward a bit, he pressed his lips against Derek’s and entwined his fingers into the other man’s hair even as the werewolf pressed one of his own against the back of Stiles’s neck to deepen the kiss. They separated after what felt like too short an amount of time to Stiles, and spent a few silent moments looking into each others’ eyes.

“You’re welcome to come and bleed on my bed whenever you like,” Stiles blurted out in order to break the silence. He could feel heat rising up his cheeks in mortification as soon as those words left his mouth, but Derek chuckled.

“I like-like you too, Stiles,” the werewolf said right before he pulled the younger man into another kiss.


End file.
